


Thranduil Imagine - Forfeit

by TigereyesF



Category: Thranduil - Fandom
Genre: Arrogant Thranduil, Challenges, Drunken Kissing, F/M, Imagination Running Riot, Mischievous Legolas, Resolved Sexual Tension, so much fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-24 00:40:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13201995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TigereyesF/pseuds/TigereyesF
Summary: One-shot inspired by a Thranduil Imagine image. Imagine being dared to kiss Thranduil, and upon receiving his consent, his neck seems the most appealing place.I've taken this and run with it, and had a great time writing it.





	Thranduil Imagine - Forfeit

**Author's Note:**

> Comments welcome!

Candlelight flickered in the subtle currents of air, casting shadows that danced high on the stone walls. Laughter filled the air, comfortable conversation and merriment floated around.  
Elasha sat back, her feet crossed, her weight resting on her hands on the floor behind her. Legolas sat to her right, roaring with laughter at something one of the servants had said.  
She couldn’t help but laugh at his hilarity, tears rolling down his cheeks as he tried to breathe.  
Casting her glance around the assembled group, she noted that most of them were drawn into some form of conversation, save the elf who sat directly across from her.  
Thranduil.  
Cool and composed, his ice blue eyes showed boredom as those around him made the most of their situation. Having gone down to the wine cellar to retrieve more barrels, the slamming of the heavy door had caused the lock to slip, and they appeared to be stuck down there until the blacksmith could be located.  
Deciding to settle down and wait, the servants had decided to break open a barrel of wine – with the king’s consent – and forget their worries as they waited for the arrival of the one who would be able to force the lock and release them.  
Quite comfortable in her situation, Elasha hadn’t batted an eyelid, knowing she was in good company and couldn’t be safer than where she was, and with those around her.  
Most of those around her were well on their way to being drunk, and she smiled at this. Having chosen to have only a couple of glasses of the strong wine, she still had a relatively clear head, as did her best friend beside her. Legolas maintained composure in the worst of situations, and this one was no difference.  
Her gaze wandered to Thranduil.  
He sat in a similar position to her, albeit with a tension in his body. He spoke very little, but did converse when someone pulled him into whatever they were saying.  
Her gaze travelled down his torso, settling on the bulge in his lap. Even soft, she knew just by looking that he packed an impressive size. God knows what he would be like aroused.  
The thought made her insides flare to life, heat building up through her and dusting her cheeks. She dragged her gaze away before anybody noticed, focusing on the conversation between Legolas and the servant next to him. The two on her left were comatose, and had been for the last half hour or so.  
“Are you alright?” Legolas asked, frowning in concern at her flushed face.  
“Yes, it’s a bit stuffy in here,” she said. “We really need some fresh air or something.”  
He held her gaze for a second or two, a subtle lift of his eyebrow telling her he wasn’t buying it.  
She narrowed her eyes at him, warning him against pushing the subject further.  
A broad grin spread across his face, and he leapt to his feet. “I think we need something other than wine to occupy ourselves,” he announced, raking around in a storage cupboard in the darkness of the far corner. “Ah-ha...here we are.”  
A collective round of groans sounded as he returned with a pack of cards, dropping back to his seating position on the floor.  
“What?” he demanded. “You’d rather just sit around and get sloshed out of your minds, or have a laugh and pass the time?”  
“I’m game,” one of the servants piped up. “Anything to keep me awake. This wine is very good, my Lord, but so strong!”  
Thranduil smiled. “I only have the best wine,” he said, the velvet of his voice merging into Elasha’s bones.  
“And quite rightly so,” another decided, waving his goblet around.  
“Everyone else in?” Legolas asked, glancing at everyone who was still awake and sober enough to make a choice.  
All in, there were seven of them.  
“Count me in,” Elasha said, taking a sip of her wine. “I’m up for a laugh.”  
He gave her a wicked grin. “Forfeit or Dungeon,” he said, and everybody howled in protest. “What?” he laughed. “You lot are all boring.”  
“Carry on,” she shot back. “I never forfeit.”  
“Ha!” he laughed. “If the challenge involves a second person and they forfeit, then they have to spend a night in the dungeon. Everybody in?”  
The wine continued to flow.  
One of the servants was challenged to reveal an embarrassing scar, to which he speedily complied, rather than be imprisoned in the dark depths of the halls. Another had to down three glasses of wine in rapid succession, after which he dutifully passed out in a heap on the floor. Elasha’s mission was to arm-wrestle the youngest person there, and she won easily.  
The challenges continued around the group, until she was once more the focus.  
Legolas took a card from the pack, eyeing it and looking at her, before chortling in wicked amusement. “Your challenge is to select the person with the highest rank or status in the assembled group,” he told her. A hushed silence fell over everyone. “And you must give that person a love bite which is visible to everyone, not to be hidden under clothing.”  
She met his gaze, amusement, excitement and annoyance competing for top place in her eyes. He was well aware she was head over heels in love with his father, and she knew he’d pulled this stunt deliberately. Sworn to secrecy, he still messed around with her from time to time, trying to get her to reveal her feelings.  
She turned her gaze to Thranduil, who sat watching her with an arrogant confidence.  
_He doesn’t think I’ll do it _, she thought. “I do not forfeit,” she said, refusing to look away from him.__  
A few giggles and hoots sounded, but she ignored them, focusing instead on the ice blue eyes that dared her to look away.  
Legolas’s eyes darted between the two, waiting to see if either of them backed down. This was going to be interesting.  
Thranduil shrugged one shoulder, motioning her with a slight tilt of his head. She rose to her feet, still not breaking his gaze.  
He didn’t look away either.  
Her bare feet made no noise as she stepped over to him, stopping beside his outstretched legs.  
Damn...they were long.  
The room was silent, save the snores from those who were unconscious.  
Deciding if she was going to do this, she would do it right, she stepped over his legs and lowered herself to sit astride his strong thighs, still staring into the depths of his eyes. She could have sworn she saw a flicker of amusement in the blue ice that stared back at her.  
Aware of the strong muscles beneath her, her gaze dropped to the inviting flesh of his neck, exposed as the collar of his tunic was open.  
Not open enough.  
She lifted one hand, lightly brushing his long hair aside, glancing up at him again. She moved the edge of his collar aside, her insides clenching in desire at the smooth skin that just seemed to be begging for her to sink her teeth into. With a final glance into his eyes, she smirked ever so slightly as she brought her other hand up and placed it on the right side of his neck, leaning forwards to his left side.  
Her lips brushed the soft skin, and she felt the thumping of his pulse as she trailed her mouth downwards, searching for the right spot. Her eyes closed and she inhaled deeply, intoxicated not by the alcohol, but by the scent and the nearness of him, the otherwise impossible position she found herself in.  
Her mouth opened in a butterfly kiss on the warm flesh, before she pressed closer to him and grazed her teeth against him. Turning the graze into a sharp bite, she sucked hard, feeling his hands lift up to settle on her lower back. His pulse thundered beneath her, and she sucked harder.  
The hand she held against the other side of his neck stiffened as she felt him attempt to move, holding him still. She knew he could free himself if he really wanted to, but relished this brief moment of control that she had, the fleeting feeling of power over him.  
His hands flexed on her back, and she instinctively sucked harder, more vigorously. Pulling back, she brushed her lips across his flesh in a soft whisper, almost in apology for causing him discomfort.  
She sat back, studying her work. She ran a gentle fingertip along the purple bruise, a satisfied smile on her face. “Not bad,” she murmered, before lifting herself from him and turning away.  
A chorus of yells and hollers assaulted her ears as those gathered leaned forwards to inspect what she had done, a rowdy din that should have woken the dead.  
Legolas caught her eye as she sat back down beside him, his shoulders shaking in silent laughter.  
“You are so dead,” she warned him. “I swear, I will make you suffer so much pain for this!”  
“It will be worth it Elasha, just for the look on my father’s face alone,” he laughed. “Oh my...definitely worth it.”  
“Dead,” she repeated, knowing their conversation couldn’t be heard over the boisterous racket in the room.  
Legolas collected himself together and yelled for some sort of order, before continuing with the game. More challenges were issued and accepted, with nobody relishing the idea of the bowels of the palace to be their temporary accommodation.  
The hours rolled past, with only five of them still awake.  
The challenges passed around the group, settling on Thranduil.  
Legolas read the card he held, his face turning serious. “This is spooky,” he said, glancing at his father. “You must select a member of the opposite gender from the selected players,” he read aloud.  
Elasha snorted, being the only female present.  
“You must give him or her a love bite – see? This is far too spooky – in a place only an intimate lover would place it,” he continued, lowering the card. “Ooops.”  
She threw a glare at him, to be met by an apologetic one in return.  
One of the servants who was still awake chuckled softly. “The King will not send himself to the dungeons,” he observed, his words slurring through the amount of wine he’d consumed.  
“Indeed I would not,” Thranduil replied. He motioned with two fingers, beckoning her towards him.  
She hesitantly made her way back over to him, stopping again beside him. Ice blue eyes motioned for her to resume her previous position, so she took a deep breath and complied, getting comfortable on his thighs.  
He gazed at her, so close she could see the shadows from the flickering candles reflecting in his eyes. Vaguely aware of his hands moving, she gasped as he tore the neckline of her top, exposing her cleavage.  
He leaned closer, nuzzling in between her breasts, his warm breath sending ripples of pleasure down her spine. She felt his lips wander, and wondered how far he was going to take this. His hands lifted and settled just under her arms, holding her still, as he turned his head towards her left breast. A gasp left her as she felt the sharp bite of his teeth, pleasure quickly overriding the pain. His warm mouth sucked rhythmically on the swell of flesh, making her leg muscles contract around his thighs.  
He felt it too, and sucked harder.  
She closed her eyes and leaned her head forwards a little, her long hair falling like a curtain around him. Her stomach muscles tensed and contracted, reacting to the rhythm of his mouth, her senses in overdrive. Strong hands prevented her from moving, the heat from them infusing itself into her blood. She bit her lip to stifle a moan of desire, her heart thudding like the stampede of horses’ hooves.  
He finally pulled back, brushing his lips over her skin as gently as she had done with him. Gazing into her eyes, he smirked. “I too, do not forfeit,” he said softly as he removed his hands.  
She returned his smirk with one of her own, rising from him and going back to her place.  
“Let us see! Let’s see!” voices rang out, desperate to find out if the King had indeed branded her.  
A flush warmed her cheeks as she quickly revealed the large bite that he had left on her, before covering it and sitting down. A volley of wolf-whistles and jeers erupted.  
“I did not think you had it in you, father,” Legolas laughed, earning himself a glare from Thranduil.  
Elasha settled back and relaxed, her mind on a euphoric level. She was going to kill Legolas with her bare hands once they were out of the cellar.  
But damn...she had felt so good in Thranduil’s hold.

____

 

Yawning and stretching, she opened her eyes, a slight headache tightening across the back of her head. Something had woken her, and it took a second or two before she realised the blacksmith was working on the lock of the cellar door.  
“Hey, get up you drunken bums,” she hissed, pushing Legolas’s head from her stomach and sending him into a heap on the floor. “The blacksmith’s here, we’re getting out of here.”  
Grunts and groans filtered around the room, with the group slowly regaining consciousness and waking up to the mother of all hangovers.  
Her gaze fell on Thranduil, who had dozed off lying on his side. Relaxed in his sleep, he looked peaceful.  
“I shall wake him,” Legolas offered, seeing the look of sadness in her eyes. His gaze dropped to her cleavage, and he grinned.  
“Shut it,” she told him, slapping him on the back of his head as he turned away. “Behave yourself.”  
Before long, everyone was exiting the cellar, glad to be free from the restraint of being locked inside. Thranduil ordered everyone to freshen up then report for duty as normal.  
Elasha had a quick bath, before dressing in her usual attire of leggings and a comfortable stretchy top, and made her way along the passageways to the council meeting room.  
“Elasha, the King requires your presence in his chambers,” the guard stationed outside the doors told her. “Be warned – he is in a foul mood.”  
“Thankyou for the warning,” she said dryly, before returning the way she had come. As Thranduil’s personal assistant, being called to his chambers was a frequent occurrence. A feeling of dread settled over her shoulders as she walked, knowing he was angry because of the events of the previous night. Seriously – Legolas was going to pay for his involvement in the whole thing.  
Knocking on the door to his chambers, a shiver went down her back as she heard his command to enter.  
She opened the door and stepped inside, closing it behind her.  
Long blond hair trailing down a tense back was the first thing she was aware of as she waited in silence. Tension radiated from him, and she could feel the uneasiness in the air around her.  
He slowly turned to her, his eyes cold. “Would you care to explain the meaning behind last night?” he said, his words loaded with venom.  
She took a deep breath. “You were there,” she replied. “It was a game, started to ease the boredom and pass the time.”  
Ice blue eyes stared into her soul. “You did not seem bored,” he commented.  
“No, I wasn’t,” she replied. “I don’t believe anybody was.”  
The muscle in his cheek tensed, and she battled to maintain her composure. She had done nothing wrong. He could have stopped the game at any point without question.  
Her gaze lowered as he stepped closer to her, coming to a halt before her. Her heartbeat pounded in her chest as she waited.  
“Did you seriously expect nothing to come from last night?” he demanded. “You did not think there would be consequences for your actions? For you and my son plotting that ridiculous game?”  
“I expected an environment where everyone made the best of their situation,” she replied, her gaze fixed on his chest. “Where no judgement or punishment would be passed.”  
He moved at speed, gripping her chin in one hand and forcing her head back, his angry eyes blazing into hers. “You expected wrong,” he hissed. A second later his mouth crushed hers, her breath leaving her with a gasp.  
An inferno roared to life between her legs as he forced her mouth open, sweeping his tongue inside with demanding pressure. She accepted hungrily, her hands lifting to clutch at his shoulders. He dragged her flush against his body, the solid warmth firm against her soft curves. Her hands tangled in his long hair as he twisted and turned, deepening the kiss. Warmth spread through her like fire as his hands roamed hungrily over her back, down over her buttocks and lower to her thighs, before sweeping back up again.  
Whimpers of need escaped from her as he constantly changed angles, trying to drown himself in her, to immerse himself deeper into her kiss. She panted for air, her body trembling as his mouth left hers and trailed a path of molten fire down her neck, his teeth biting hard as he moved. She moved her hands to the back of his broad shoulders, gripping fistfuls of fabric to steady herself. His hands caressed her hips and disappeared under the edge of her top, coming into contact with the bare skin of her back.  
Her flesh burned under his exploring touch. Her breasts seemed to swell in arousal as she pressed against his chest, her nipples hard and aching to be touched. Almost as if he could read her mind, his hands closed over both breasts, squeezing and caressing them, rubbing his thumbs over her nipples.  
A deep cry tore itself from her throat as her knees threatened to give way, and immediately she felt a strong thigh wedge in between hers, giving her support and maybe a way to ease the ache in between her own legs. She ground her hips down, desperate for some sort of relief, but it wasn’t enough. The solid length of his erection pressing insistently against her was the only way she would achieve any form of relief.  
His mouth chased hers, crushing hers in a kiss so intense, her insides quaked and trembled. She arched her back, pushing closer into his hands as her body writhed and squirmed.  
Dragging his mouth from hers, he panted as he gripped a fistful of her hair and pulled her head back. “Is this still a game to you?” he demanded in a hoarse whisper.  
The desire in her eyes gave him his answer.  
“No,” she panted, every part of her body crying out for his touch.  
He stared down at her, before sliding his hands down her sides to her thighs, which he gripped in a swift movement and lifted, wrapping her legs around him. “Is this what you want?”  
“Yes,” she gasped, inflamed at the hardness pressing against her, her hands locking at the back of his neck. She bit her lower lip as his gaze dropped to her breasts, then lifted to hers once more.  
Keeping one hand on her rear to support her, his other hand tangled in her hair to hold her still as he plundered her mouth again, his tongue demanding entry and taking it. She moaned into him, moving with him, accepting everything he had to give and silently pleading for more. Her hands slid from around his neck, exploring the flesh of his throat, a deep whimper sounding as she ground her hips against his. A rumble of need answered her, and she tightened her legs around him.  
He leaned forwards, toppling both of them onto the soft bed, his weight holding her against the blankets. She ran her hands through his hair as he kissed her, whimpering and panting as his mouth moved against hers. His hands lifted the fabric of her top, exploring the flesh he uncovered. Breaking the kiss, she lifted her arms as he pulled the garment free, tossing it over his shoulder without a thought. His eyes roamed over her, his nostrils flaring as he clenched his teeth.  
Her head rolled to one side as he licked a path down her neck, pausing to suck here and there along the way. Her hips lifted, pushing hard against his and the hardness that awaited her. She rotated her hips as his hands cupped her breasts, teasing one nipple with his thumb and dragging his full bottom lip over the other. Turned on even more by her response, he did it again, before sucking the hard flesh into his mouth. Her body twisted beneath his, aching with lust.  
He shrugged out of his tunic, barely breaking contact, and her hands roamed over his shoulders and his back. His flesh burned under her touch, sparks blasting to life deep within his muscles. Her skin flamed as it came into contact with his, the heat soaring between them.  
He reared up over her, gazing down into her eyes as he towered over her.  
“Do not play with fire that burns outwith your control,” he warned, his voice low.  
She tilted her hips upward in a subtle movement, mesmerised by the passion that blazed in the depths of his blue eyes, the lust that burned out of control.  
He responded by pulling back and resting his weight on his heels, watching her like a predator. With a quick movement, he pulled her leggings down and tossed them aside.  
Her breathing quickened.  
His long hair brushed his forearms as he pushed his trousers down, and they disappeared to wherever her clothing had gone.  
Neither of them cared.  
Grasping her legs, he parted her thighs, his gaze dropping briefly and his eyes closing as he took a deep, steadying breath. He settled his weight comfortably in the space he had created, his body touching hers once more.  
Her mouth opened automatically as his lowered, his tongue leading hers in an erotic dance that had both of them moaning with desire. Without breaking the kiss, he grabbed one of her wrists and forced it against the bed beside her head, followed by the other one on the other side, holding her down. She whimpered in desperation, needing what only he could give her.  
Dragging his mouth from hers, he sunk his teeth into his swollen lip as he nudged his tip against her entrance, slowly pushing forwards. A strangled cry burst from her, her hips lifting in acceptance, begging silently for more. Inch by inch he pushed into her, fighting the burn to thrust in hard and fast. Her body accepted him and urged him deeper, urged him to give more, urged him to give in to her and lose himself completely in her.  
Giving in to the need that coursed through him, he thrust into her hard, over and over and over. Each time her movements matched his, fuelling his passion further, drawing him deeper into a vortex that was spinning out of control. Sweat drenched the two of them as they clung together, both giving and taking in equal measure.  
She moaned helplessly under his body, unable to think coherently. Her senses seemed to explode within her, every part of her hyper sensitive.  
He released his grip on her wrists, sliding one hand under her neck and crushing his mouth to hers. His other hand gripped behind her knee, opening her wider to him. Her hands covered every inch of him she could reach; his face and neck, his shoulders, his arms, his chest, his back. His strong thrusts plunged harder and faster, the wet heat of her overwhelming him.  
She lifted one knee and flipped her leg over his thighs, flexing and tightening against him. His hips rocked hard in silent reply, his hard length pounding against her cervix. Her body arched up off the bed, and she gripped his hair with both hands, forcing him back a little to look at her.  
Ice blue eyes met deep blue eyes, and his movements halted.  
She watched him, feeling him jerk inside her, feeling the tension shudder through his entire body. He panted as hard as she did, trying to catch his breath.  
The seconds ticked past.  
He began to move again, slow, deliberate thrusts that spoke of his need to bond with her rather than simply fuck her in animalistic hunger. His insides tightened as the look in her eyes changed, her emotions clear as she gazed up at him. Maintaining the visual bond between them, they moved together, the heat continuing to build. He rotated his hips as he pushed into her, hitting every sensitive part of her. A gasp left her lips with each of his thrusts, but neither of them looked away from each other.  
He felt the beginnings of her orgasm, as her thighs trembled around him, tightening around his waist, her body tensing in preparation. The muscles at the base of his spine reacted, and his movements picked up speed, his thrusts deepening.  
Lowering his mouth, he gently brushed his open lips across hers in the faintest kiss. “Come for me,” he whispered. “Explode for me. Flood me. Scream for me.”  
“I don’t want to come alone,” she gasped, the coil of tension in her winding tighter and tighter.  
“You will not,” he promised, his mouth still teasing hers. “Let me feel you.”  
Her body went rigid and her head rolled back as she arched up with a scream, her insides contracting wildly around him in the strongest orgasm she’d ever had. He pumped hard into her, and burst deep inside her with a deep roar that seemed to come from his toes. The spasms and aftershocks rippled through them like they would never stop, the world spinning out of control as they crashed over the crest of orgasmic bliss.  
Elasha leaned her head back against the blankets, shaking from head to foot in exertion. The heated body in her arms trembled, as he rested his head in the curve of her neck, panting hard. A cool breeze floated over them, cooling the sweat that soaked the two of them. Neither had the energy or the will to move.  
After several minutes, Thranduil lifted his head and gazed at her, trying to read her eyes. Unsure of what he saw, he inhaled deeply and slowly slid out of her, his body missing her heat immediately. He sat back on his heels, running both his hands down his face, still breathing fast. He reached down onto the floor and lifted her top, folding it and carefully wiping the excess fluid from between her legs, his blue eyes meeting hers as he did so. Dropping it back on the floor, he waited in silence.  
She sat up, swinging her body away from him and tugging her knees up in a defensive gesture.  
Nobody spoke.  
Unable to resist, he shifted so he was kneeling behind her, and gently moved her long hair over one shoulder, pressing a tender kiss to the skin he uncovered. “You have not worked it out yet, have you?” he murmered.  
“Worked what out?” she asked, swallowing her nerves. She’d just given in to her heart’s deepest desire and fucked the elf King six ways from Sunday, and wasn’t sure what was expected of her.  
“The game from last night,” he replied. His voice flowed over her in soothing waves.  
She turned so he had a view of her profile. “What about it?”  
He smiled against the warm skin of her shoulder. “My son may act stupid, but I assure you – he is not.”  
She twisted so she could face him, questions in her eyes.  
He clenched his jaw, nervous for the first time in centuries. “He set this up,” he told her softly. “He knew I would not be able to resist you any longer if you went through with the challenges.”  
Wide eyes stared into his. “What do you mean, any longer?” she whispered. Tears shone in the depths. Sad tears, hopeful tears.  
He noticed them, and lifted his hands to touch her cheeks, placing a tender kiss on her mouth. “I love you Elasha, I always have,” he whispered. “But I did not know how to approach you, I did not think you would respond.”  
She blinked, her tears falling. Swallowing, she shook her head. “He knows I fell in love with you a long, long time ago,” she said, stunned. “He knew how I felt.”  
“Now you know how I feel,” he said. “I love you. I love you so much, I do not know what to do with it, it overtakes everything around me.”  
She laughed, wiping her tears away, and rose to her knees, sliding her arms around his neck and pulling him into a tight embrace. “I love you so much more,” she whispered, kissing the soft skin of his neck. “And I always will.”  
His arms tightened around her as they settled against each other; happy, contented, and in love.  
Maybe Legolas wouldn’t pay the price for his meddling after all.


End file.
